


Hellarious, isn't it?

by kyasuu (orphan_account)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/F, Frisk Needs A Hug, Gaster get your shit together, Gen, Genocide Aftermath, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Sans Needs A Hug, Self-Hatred, Suicidal Ideation, Suicide, The core - Freeform, i want everyone to be happy but i wrote this, no kidding this fic is literally "I HATE MYSELF" the fic, not a happy fic, read the damn tags, what even is science lmao
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-11
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-14 09:54:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8008984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/kyasuu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frisk accepts Sans's MERCY, except this time, they don't come back.</p><p>(In which Sans deals with the aftermath, and Frisk learns that RESETs can't fix everything.)</p><p>Part I: Hellarious, isn't it? - Chapters 1-9<br/>Interlude - Chapter 10<br/>Part II: Something is Missing - Chapters 11-??</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frisk doesn't RESET, and Sans is confused.

"Get dunked on." Your voice is frigid, containing none of your usual levity. "If we're really friends, you won't come back."

Frisk's body drops to the ground with a quiet thud. Blood is spreading around them, soaking into the blue and purple striped sweater. The knife slips out of their limp hands, and blood slips off the locket. Their soul floats above them in all its beautiful red glory. A darker shade curls around the soul, something that's only happened in Runs like these.

You're waiting for them to RESET like they always do. This is the second time they've accepted your MERCY. Maybe this time they'll actually go back and do the right thing.

But you just stand there, always waiting for you to be standing in your old spot, watching Frisk approach you with that hollow-angry look in their eye, but it never comes.

There is no RESET, and it only dawns on you when you hear Asgore's soft footsteps.

"Sans. It's over." His voice is as sad and kind as usual, but it doesn't quite register. It's so… surreal. You want to sob.

_This isn't what you wanted._

"Why…" you manage to say to Frisk's soul. "Why?" _Why don't you RESET? Why aren't you? Why aren't you going to go back and SAVE everyone?_

Asgore probably doesn't know what you're talking about. He's probably pretty confused, but he rests a large hand on your small frame anyways. "Come. I'll make you some tea," he murmurs, and guides you into his colorless home.

You think that's a pretty accurate representation of you right now.

Colorless.

_Dull._

.

It's been a week, and Frisk still hasn't RESET.

You don't think you've ever wished for a RESET this much.

Alphys is doing an excellent job of keeping everything together, all things considered. She's working on more efficient ways to keep humans out, including a series of traps in the Ruins. Napstablook's helping a lot with this. You think it's because of Mettaton, despite how much shit his cousin had put them through.

You've also been helping out Alphys. She's a great person, despite her need to cover up her insecurities with lies. You two are similar in that regard.

Working until you pass out is probably unhealthy, but it's something that you've done before with _him_ , and it's also a good way to forget. You wonder what Papyrus would say _now_ , and you laugh to yourself bitterly at the thought.

_(Papyrus's dust is scattered around the house.)_

Snowdin is subdued as well. There's no cheer, and even if most have moved back in, it's still… too quiet. You aren't helping much. You just spend most of your time, sleeping in Grillby's bar, mostly at his insistence.

(He said sleeping in a bed full of dust and eating nothing but shitty spaghetti isn't healthy. Haha.)

Nobody treats you any differently, except with cautiously concerned stares and sympathetic pats on the back with sincere but never understanding condolences—"I heard about your brother." "Papyrus will be missed."

And worst—"I'm so sorry."

_(You wanted to throw up the first time you heard that one.)_

They don't know that you're the one who killed the human. They don't know that you stabbed them when their guard was down, when they were sparing you. They don't know that you're the one who watched their body hit the ground and their blood pool in the Judgement Hall.

You had asked Asgore not to tell.

_(You were the one to bring their body to their final resting place. The blood has long since dried.)_

Worst of all, nobody knows that Frisk had freed them from this cage called the Underground.

_(Now they'll never know.)_

You wonder, _if I die here, will I wake up in Snowdin again?_

You're tempted to try, but that would be selfish.

Alphys needs you. You can see her struggling to keep herself together. You can see her struggling to keep iyou/i together.

She probably doesn't know you're beyond saving.

…

You miss Undyne's loud shouts and passion. All you hear now is empty silence and the echo flowers' wordless story of her last stand.

You miss the old lady telling knock-knock jokes behind the door. All that comes out of the knock is a hollow echo and dust billowing below the door.

You even miss that obnoxious robot Mettaton with his unfunny jokes and shitty robotic laugh.

But most of all, you miss Papyrus. You miss his loudness and his enthusiasm. You miss his shitty spaghetti. You miss him dragging you out of bed every morning. You miss him scolding you. You miss his hugs, his love, and everything.

And maybe, just maybe, you miss Frisk, the soft and caring and kind and endlessly patient little human child who shows everybody MERCY and mercy and gains no LOVE but plenty of love.

"This is a _hell_ arious situation, isn't it?" you tell the dusty door to the Ruins; it's too bad you're the only one who can appreciate such a pun.

You're half-hoping somebody will answer you.

But nobody came.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans doesn't seem much for conversation. Nobody is happy with this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woah look at these tags

The blood on the ground is brownish red. It's rather flaky.

You unceremoniously drop the flowers on it. They're all withered. You made sure to pick the deadest ones on your way here. You've never been into the language of flowers, but it's common sense to know that dead flowers are probably rude.

Almost as dead as the human, whose body is resting in a coffin now. Last you checked, they looked like they were sleeping peacefully. The little shit had the audacity to smile.

That was a year ago.

Asgore hasn't broken the barrier, and you know why—if a human child could wipe out half the Underground, what chance do you have against an entire population of them?

The Underground has no "hope" left. It's dying.

You stare at the crumbly flowers scattered randomly over the spot of blood. You don't know what kind they are.

Sudden footsteps startle you, and you swivel around in the direction of the hall. Nobody except you and Asgore come here, and there's a large gathering of them from what you can hear.

Then you hear the voices, and that startles you so much you think you're delusional. You can't move, you're frozen to the spot, eyes wide with shock.

"—s? Sans, Alphys, where did you go?"

"Jeez, it's terrifyingly quiet in here…"

Frisk walks into the Judgement Hall, wearing a bandage and carrying a stick. They're clean—there's no monster dust.

And what's worse—

"Sans! There you are! You and Alphys suddenly disappeared, we were so wo—Sans, are you alright?"

You can't breathe, which is kinda funny because you're a skeleton, and you don't need to breathe because you don't have organs. You can't move either, your magic and bones completely unresponsive.

Papyrus. Undyne. Toriel. Even Mettaton, who looks just as confused as you do.

"O…oh my god." You draw in a shaky breath. "Oh my god. You… you cannot be…" Swallowing, you try again to speak. "You cannot be fucking serious."

Frisk looks as horrified as you feel. A hand is covering their mouth, and their eyes are wide with horror as they connect the dots.

"Sans," says Frisk in a tremulous voice. They're looking guiltily at the flowers. "I'm so, so sorry."

"What's—"

"A _year_."

"I'm sorry."

Your legs give out, and you collapse to the ground, laugh-sobbing and covering your face with a hand. "Sa—" Papyrus tries again, but you cut him off, barely aware of his words.

"A _year_. A year, Frisk."

"I'm sorry."

You just laugh. Your words are cruel, but you don't care at the moment. "I dare you to say that to Napstablook, or Alphys. Or anybody. I fucking dare you."

Frisk flinches as though slapped, but they collect themselves quickly. "I know saying sorry isn't going to fix anything," they say. "It's not going to bring anybody back, and it's not going to make anybody happy."

"Human, what's—" Undyne begins, but is quickly shushed by Toriel and Mettaton. You can feel her yellow eyes on you, half-concerned, half-confused.

You breathe shallowly in the silence that follows, regaining your composure slowly, but when you do, you stand and collect your thoughts. Your legs still feel weak, as though you'd just run a mile. Or gone in a bout with Frisk.

You snort to yourself.

Taking a deep breath, you refuse to look at anybody, looking forward and _through_ Toriel rather than at her. "Come on. We need to get you somewhere else before Asgore returns."

"Sans, what's going o—?"

You cut Toriel off briskly, feeling like shit for doing so. "I know a shortcut," you say, marching forward and teleporting.

The familiar sensation of teleporting but dragging everybody along with you puts some strain on you, but you don't really care, imagining your living room.

Everybody reappears in the living room, just a bit disoriented. It's far dirtier than usual, dust coating everything. You've hardly bothered to do any cleaning. It's mostly because you're swamped with work that you took upon yourself, and it shows, from the massive tomes strewn about on the table and the ground, along with used cups of coffee. Your calculator is used and beat up, and you've gone through about thirty erasers and pencils in the past week.

You can't count how many times you've fallen asleep on your work by accident.

"If you don't mind, I have to make a quick call first." You pull out your cell phone, calling Alphys. She's on speed dial—there's nobody else to call, anyways.

 _"Mm… Sans? Something you wanted?"_ Alphys asks sleepily through the phone.

"Hey, Alphys. Something big came up, so I'll need to postpone some of the designs. Do you mind? I mean, I could still get some done but—"

 _"Oh, it's fine,"_ she responds immediately. _"You need to take a few breaks, Sans."_

You snort. It's hilarious, because Papyrus is standing right there. "Pot calling the kettle black here, Al. Don't work yourself into the ground. Actually get some sleep this week. Take care of yourself."

 _"'Kay,"_ Alphys mumbles back, yawning. i"I think I'll go do that right now."

You hang up. After that, you turn to your supposed-to-be-dead friends. "Care to explain?" you ask, shuffling papers around on your table after skimming them briefly. Crumpling one of them into a ball because it'd never work, you toss it into the bin across the room.

" _You're_ the one who needs to explain!" Undyne huffs angrily. She sounds like she's been holding all that emotion in for ages. She probably has.

"Keep your tone down. Neighbors will get suspicious and I don't want to deal with that bullshit running on half an hour a sleep and about twenty cups of coffee."

"Sans, what happened?" Toriel asks kindly. She sounds genuinely concerned; Papyrus is as well, probably. Or disgusted. You can't really tell with Mettaton. Maybe it's for the better.

"Aborted genocide," you say shortly, refilling your coffee and rubbing at the spot below your eye. "In other words, you're all dead and people will freak out if they see you. We might have seven souls, but going to the Surface terrifies the monsters now. Hope is a foreign concept at the moment. Not that that really changes anything for me. I've only one HP anyways."

"I do have a question though," Mettaton speaks up for the first time. "I'm literally a ghost in a machine. How am I dead? Unless I'm not, which would be lovely." You think it's kinda funny how _that's_ what Mettaton is concerned about.

"Merged with your body. Became corporeal." You drink your coffee while it's still hot. "ATK 90. DEF 9. Killed in one attack."

"That's mildly disappointing," Mettaton says. You can't really tell if he's actually disappointed or not, being a metal box.

"Cry me a river."

Frisk's gaze is downcast. "I'm sorry."

"For the love of god, stop apologizing. It's not really your fault your RESET made a glitch." You're still not looking at any of them though. You're pretty sure you're acting weird to them.

"Is… is Alphys okay?" Undyne inquires, her voice uncharacteristically soft and worried. It's a huge contrast to her normal brashness.

"She's about as okay as I am," you respond bluntly. Papyrus winces audibly and you flinch. Your cynicism is probably freaking all of them out, Papyrus the most. Sighing, you rub against your skull, hard enough to hurt. "…Sorry. Past year's been pretty hard. And… I should be working at the moment, actually."

With that being said, you reach for the nearest stack of papers, leafing through them with a critical eye. These are a few other scientists' work, and you're checking if they'd actually work, and fixing them where they need to be fixed. If your vision swims a little, you pay no heed to it.

"Sans," Papyrus says, gently, and you look up immediately out of habit. You regret it, because his eyes look so sad and worried and you hate it because you're the cause of it. You avert your gaze. "You should go take a break."

You manage a lopsided smirk. "That's hilarious." But you're all too aware of the dark, dark shadows beneath your eyes and how you're somehow skinnier than you were a year ago, despite being a _skeleton._

"You look terrible, not gonna lie," Undyne adds, frowning. "What happened to sleeping eighteen hours a day?" The look on her face suggests she knows what happened, but doesn't want to say it. You say it for her.

"Working's better than night terrors." You calmly take another sip of your coffee, black and bitter, the papers in your hand but facing downwards. "And making sure nothing like this happens again is a top priority. We've gotten a lot done, but it isn't enough. Besides, if I don't do at least this much, Alphys wouldn't be able to catch a single break. She needs it."

"You keep mentioning a 'this'," Toriel says. She looks hesitant to know. "What… what exactly happened? I mean… I know we died. But I'm not certain as to how."

"I killed you," Frisk mumbles for you, sounding on the verge of tears. Everyone's attention goes to them instead of you. "But I didn't, at the same time. I don't like hurting people. But I'm still the one who did all of this. Or the other one. I… it's so confusing."

"Oh, your split personality, huh?" You've made a couple of hypotheses before, but after this whole bullshit, you've completely stopped caring about timelines and thrown yourself into working on traps and more efficient weapons and things to make life a bit easier. Frisk's words probably just confirmed it, even if you can't trust them completely.

"You know about Ch—them?" Frisk stumbles on their words with a quick and nervous glance at Toriel. Curious. You'll ask them later.

"It was mostly just hypotheses." You shrug. "More important stuff came after that, and I tossed everything to do with you and timelines to the side."

"I don't remember you being quite this cynical, darling." You think Mettaton is regarding you, but it's hard to tell. Again, he's literally a rectangle. You wonder how much emotion he can show.

"I've always been this cynical. Just always kept it to myself." You wonder if telling them you've considered killing yourself multiple times is too much information.

"I figured." Of course Mettaton would've noticed, even if you don't talk too often. He's an actor. He understands acting better than anybody else.

"Sans, you should really get some rest," Papyrus speaks up again. His voice is so, so soft and it cuts right to your soul. Even after a year, he can still get to you so easily. "Please."

You toss the papers on the nearest surface, caving instantly, setting your now empty mug on them to prevent them from flying off. "Sure, why not. Feel free to make yourself at home. I'm heading to Grillby's."

Frisk flinches at the familiar words. You hate the savage sense of sick delight that you take in it. "Going to Grillby's isn't rest, Sans," Undyne points out.

"I don't sleep here anymore. He doesn't trust me at home alone. Can't say I blame him." It's the same reason why you've asked the little yellow monster kid to stay with Alphys, just to talk to her. Just to make sure she has somebody to talk to. And the kid themself needs somebody too. Not that Napstablook isn't good company, but _they_ have a whole slew of issues that you're not going to think about right now.

You walk to the door. "Do what you want here, just don't do anything to the notes or books. I need those." With that, you open the door and exit.

The wind is a bit colder than usual.

It chills you to the bone.

You laugh to yourself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope this chapter is ok?
> 
> it turned out better than i expected but worse than i hoped lmao
> 
> btw gotta love Mettaton
> 
> up next: *spoiler warning* more suffering
> 
> also i head-canon that Chara isn't evil they're just a lil shit who needs to be spanked and then hugged but you the player turned them into this spawn of Satan


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cinnamon roll cries, and everybody freaks out. Food arrives. Also a surprise character. Or a not-so surprise character?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok sorry about pov change haha
> 
> basically if it's 3rd person it's frisk 2nd person it's sans
> 
> also really sorry if the chapter looks a bit wonky??
> 
> okay this chapter's trigger warnings are a lot of self hate (A LOT) and a bit of suicidal ideation so be warned

Frisk’s heart and soul both ache for Sans, for Alphys, for this world, and for what they’ve done with their own two hands. They look down at them, and can easily remember them being stained with dust and with Sans’s blood.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, my child.” Toriel hugs Frisk, despite everything, and their eyes water. They rub furiously at their eyes— _ you don’t get to cry when Sans hasn’t, _  they tell themself.

“It… it’s really dusty in here,” Undyne says awkwardly, clearing her throat. Frisk figures she doesn’t know if it’s monster dust or just regular old dust. They dread seeing what Papyrus’s room looks like.

“He doesn’t take care of himself,” Papyrus states, and Frisk hates how his voice is so empty and quiet in comparison to his usual boisterous laughter. “And… these diagrams are for traps. Not puzzles.”

“Traps—oh, why am I even surprised even more?” Mettaton sighs dramatically as he’s wont to do. Frisk appreciates his attempts at normalcy. “Of course they’re traps. If a monster as strong as Undyne or, and I don’t mean to boast, a machine like me, was killed, I wouldn’t be surprised if there were traps set up.”

“It’s not just you guys,” Frisk says, hating themself even more as they speak. “Half the Underground. Froggit and Whimsun, Snowdrake and Icecap, and even Madjick and Knight-Knight. None of them were spared. And… and it wasn’t even  _ self-defense _ . I… they…  _ They  _ hunted them down.” They shiver as they remember the grainy feeling of dust on their hands.

Toriel combs a large hand through Frisk’s hair gently, soothingly. “I know you’d never want to hurt anyone, Frisk. It’s not your fault.”

“A-and the worst p-part…” Ignoring her words, Frisk nearly chokes on their words around the tears building in their eyes. “It was w-when  _ they _  k-killed Sans. H-he said he thought all t-they needed were some bad l-laughs, good food, and f-friends. And then he said he r-realized they w-would never be s-satisfied.”

They hiccup and rub violently at their eyes. They don’t want to cry. They need to be strong. Swallowing, Frisk continues. “Sans kept me in the J-Judgement Hall for h-hours. D-days, even. H-half of me wanted h-him to keep killing me so I-I could RESET a-and b-bring you all to the S-Surface. T-the other…”

Frisk shakes and recalls, “ _ Can’t keep dodging forever. Keep attacking. _ ”

Toriel keeps rubbing Frisk’s back, calming them down substantially. It gives them something to focus on. “An… and halfway through the F-FIGHT… h-he offered MERCY.  _ They _  kept attacking.

“B-but one run they got curious.” Frisk’s voice steadies a bit. “And they took Sans’s MERCY. Sans killed us immediately and told them that if they were really friends, they’d never come back.  _ They _  got so angry… they kept trying…

“Eventually… I got control back. I took Sans’s MERCY again, and RESET. But something happened, and…” Frisk shrugs helplessly. “This.”

Frisk doesn’t talk about how they’d attacked Sans on  _ his _  turn. They don’t talk about his last words. They don’t talk about how Sans said he’d given up a long time ago.

“They…” Frisk barely manages to say their next words. “They kept count. Of how many times we died. And how many times they killed him. And how many times we’ve gone through and killed everyone.”

“That’s  _ fucked _ ,” Undyne breathes, looking horrified. Neither Toriel nor Papyrus chastise her for language. “That’s so, so  _ fucked _ .”

Frisk rubs desperately at their leaking eyes. Toriel gently pries their hands away and wipes them for Frisk, except her touches are far softer.

“I’m. I’m going to my room,” Papyrus blurts out, and heads up the stairs quickly. Frisk’s eyes widen—what kind of dusty mess would his room  _ be _ ? That thought is enough to snap them out of their hole of misery temporarily.

“Papyrus, that’s not a—” Mettaton doesn’t get to finish his thought.

Undyne chases after him, Frisk and Toriel following suit. Mettaton awkwardly stands back, unable to get to the top due to his wheel.

Papyrus opens the door.

It looks the same as Frisk remembers. It’s just… dustier. The dust is monster dust white.

Papyrus’s bed is coated in dust, a color Frisk is intimately familiar with. A red scarf is folded neatly on it. It looks well taken care of.

“Oh,” says Papyrus, voice very, very small.

When Frisk looks more closely, they can see that the bed’s been slept in, but not really that recently. The wrinkles are in a small area. Sans probably slept here a few times before Grillby forced him to stop. The thought makes Frisk drop even deeper into their pit of self-deprecation.

Undyne rests a hand on Papyrus’s shoulder. “Come on, Papyrus,” she murmurs. “Let’s go back downstairs.”

Frisk looks at their feet. They’ve really screwed everything up, haven’t they.

.

Everybody’s decided to just crash on the couch together. (Except Mettaton, who’s just leaning (?) against the couch. He doesn’t need sleep anyways.) It’s a bit crowded, but kinda comfy. It’s pretty big, so it’s not too much of a problem, as long as they move all of Sans’s heavy books and research papers. Nobody wants to look at them.

Frisk is about to fall asleep when they hear the door open. They sit up immediately, wide awake, and turn towards the door. “Sans?”

“No,” answers a low voice. Frisk has to look over the couch to figure out who it is. “His friend.” Grillby walks towards them, carrying something. It’s a bag of something that reminds Frisk that they haven’t eaten in a while.

It’s hard to tell what kind of expression Grillby’s making. It makes Frisk a bit nervous, and they shift anxiously.

“So you’re the reason he’s so distraught at the moment.” His tone is neutral, though Frisk doesn’t think he’s actually as calm as he seems, because they think they can hear a hint of accusation in his tone. He doesn’t seem to be directing it at Frisk, but they feel as though he is.

“Is he okay?” Papyrus asks immediately, leaning forward and nearly pushing Undyne off the couch. “Where’s he?”

“He’s at my home, sleeping like he should be.” Grillby pauses, as though choosing his words carefully. “I wouldn’t say he’s ‘okay’. He’s doing… decently for _him_ . He’s doing a lot better than when this whole situation began, but I still don’t trust him with sleeping pills.”

Even if Frisk is young, they understand the meaning behind that and they feel sick to their stomach, nausea rolling through them. They feel even worse about this whole situation, if it’s even possible.

“Oh. Oh my god.” Toriel sounds horrified. She isn’t the only one.

“Yes, basically.” Grillby holds out the bag, probably to change the subject, and Frisk can smell the familiar aroma of Grillby’s food, along with Cinnamon Bunnies and Bisicles. Undyne takes it and sets it down, but nobody touches it.

“You four… five?” Grillby shakes his head, probably uncertain as to whether Mettaton needed anything or not. “You should eat. Sans made me promise to bring you guys something.”

The guilt stabs into Frisk like a knife and twists violently. Toriel pats their head gently, clearly noticing their distress.

Nobody makes a move for the food, and Grillby doesn’t prompt them any further. It’s just quiet and still.

Eventually Mettaton breaks the silence with the question all of them have been internally asking.

“What happened?” It’s probably difficult to sound concerned as a robot, but Mettaton somehow manages it.

Sighing, Grillby leans against the table where there once was a pet rock. Thick books and papers have replaced it. When Frisk looks at Grillby’s face, he looks a decade older.

“A human came through,” he answers after a long pause, having gathered up his words. Frisk’s fingers dig into the cloth of the green couch. “They killed every single monster on their way to Snowdin, and a lucky few monsters who’d escaped the massacre managed to warn the rest of us. We evacuated. All of us except Sans and Papyrus.”

_ Massacre. _  Because that’s exactly what it was. None of them stood a chance.

“Sans tried to threaten the human into stopping their mindless killing.” Frisk remembers all too vividly—Sans’s expression going glacial, Sans telling them to stop, Sans disappearing. “They didn’t listen. They went through Snowdin, but there was nobody there.”

Grillby looks immensely uncomfortable and his flames crackle, probably out of nervousness. Frisk doesn’t blame him. “…When they left Snowdin, they encountered Papyrus.”

Frisk’s nails are about to tear into the cloth, and they tremble. They know how this story goes. Not even Toriel’s warmth helps them much.

“I wasn’t there, but Sans said you spared them.” Grillby’s addressing Papyrus, who looks like he doesn’t know if he wants to be relieved or horrified. “I suppose you can guess what happened after.”

“God,” Undyne mutters, voice low but angry. She runs a hand through her red hair, scrubbing violently at her scalp. “This whole situation. It’s just… It’s just so weird.”

Frisk doesn’t dare reach out and try to comfort her. They don’t trust themself, but thankfully Papyrus does a decent job, clasping a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m unclear on the full details of what occurred afterwards, but… Eventually the human made it to New Home. Asgore’s Judge killed the human and gave him the last soul, but it was all for nothing. Nobody wanted to go to the Surface—if a single human  _ child _ could wipe out half the Underground, what of an entire population?”

They all sit in silence, digesting this new information.

After a few moments to recollect himself, Grillby speaks up again. “Alphys and Sans have been working on a huge amount of projects, all to make sure that any human that falls into the Underground won’t survive and to make sure the CORE doesn’t break down.”

There’s a pregnant pause.

“Well. If this isn’t a terrible situation, I don’t know what a terrible situation is,” Mettaton states. Frisk agrees wholeheartedly.

Grillby shrugs wearily. “I don’t even know the full details. Ask Sans, if you really want to know. Besides, I need to get back to work.” He turns and heads for the door.

He’s about to leave when Papyrus calls, “Grillby! Wait.” Grillby turns to Papyrus questioningly. “Thank you. Even if your food is unhealthy and greasy, thank you for taking care of Sans for us.”

“It’s the least I can do,” Grillby replies, and the door shuts behind him. The room is just a bit colder.

.

You wake with a groan, blinking tiredly. Your arm is pinned under your body, and your spine is in a weird position, but you’re used to that. Yawning, you sit up and rub at your eye sockets.

Sleeping on Grillby’s couch is a common occurrence now, and you can hear shuffling coming from one of the rooms. You crack your spine and finger bones before reaching for a pad of paper and a pen, quickly writing a sloppy note for him.

_ leaving now, don’t worry, not dead _

With that, you stand up and take a shortcut, imagining the damp and cool, the haunting echoes, the whispers of the flowers of Waterfall.

You find yourself standing at the thin strip of land connecting the two large masses. Undyne’s dust had fallen over the edge, and what little remained you had covered her house in.

The chasm is deep and dark, and when you stare, you can feel it staring back.

Fearlessly, you cross the bridge, hands in your pockets. Death doesn’t scare you. It never has. It’s almost tempting, almost exhilarating… what if you slip? What if the wind blows you, what if you fall?

After reaching the other side, you pause and turn around. You can remember it all—the human, killing Undyne, Undyne, killing the human—and you’re glad Alphys can’t everything.

You continue walking until you reach the entrance to Hotland, the stone dark blue and tall. Its shadow looms over you.

“Howdy!”

You stop.

“Hey,” you reply. This is what you came for.

Flowey’s smiling face looks up at you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we need our flowery bastard of course  
> up next: Flowey  
> surprised? no? good  
> oh and why’s Mettaton a rectangle still?  
> uh batteries. yeah that’s why  
> also nope nobody ‘cept Frisk, Sans, and Flowey truly understand RESETs, the Pacifist group are too preoccupied with precious cinnamon roll crying to pay too much attention to what they’re saying


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The skele and the flower have a Talk asriel as it can get. There's a bit of a respite from the suffering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: puns and frisk being harsh on themself

"Interesting houseguests you have," Flowey comments, looking at you with that horrible grin you've grown used to. You don't like him, he doesn't like you, but you two keep your truce. "I thought Chara had killed them all."

"Chara?" you inquire, intrigued. Chara is the name of Asgore and Toriel's human child, who'd died by eating buttercups. You haven't heard this name outside of history textbooks before. Your mind is racing, trying to piece together this puzzle.

"Hmm? You didn't know?" Flowey's tone is mocking, but it doesn't bother you as much as it used to. It's his default tone. "They're little Frisk's 'split personality'." He doesn't need to make air quotes for you to know he's mocking your words. You're not even surprised about the fact that he was listening in on your conversation.

"The Prinx is Frisk's genocidal split personality," you say with a deadpan. Saying it out loud makes it sound even more ridiculous, but Flowey's sneer tells you it's true. "I haven't a clue how that would work."

"I'm a flower with DETERMINATION. _You_ of all monsters ended up killing the human." Flowey makes a movement that you assume is supposed to be a shrug. "Nothing too surprising."

Admittedly that's true, but you decide not to give Flowey the satisfaction, so you change the subject a bit, gears still turning. "Any clue how they may have arrived here?"

"Don't ask me, _you're_ the scientist," Flowey snaps back.

"Don't ask me, _you're_ the one with DETERMINATION," you retort immediately. Both your tones are deceptively light and playful, but you can feel his malice. You know he can feel yours as well.

Neither of you like each other, and it's made very clear despite the casual speech and lack of fighting. Physically.

"So, no leads from either of us, and you're the only one who'd give a shit." Flowey smirks. "So even if I had information, I would have no obligation to give it to you."

That's true, you acknowledge, but you have another trump card… well, if it even is a trump card. You're just guessing here. "If we find out how this happened and fix it, Frisk might be able to RESET this timeline. Set everything properly."

Flowey makes an expression that's akin to raising one's eyebrow. "And? Why wouldn't I want to keep this timeline? Sure, it's just a bit boring, but there are definitely ways to keep myself entertained."

"We could also get your SOUL along the way…"

Flowey stills. Your gamble paid off.

"Asriel Dreemurr."

You hit the jackpot.

* * *

 

Frisk can smell the familiar smell of butterscotch and cinnamon pie wafting from the kitchen. Grillby had brought groceries along with the food, and Toriel's working on it with Mettaton, who's probably just there for the company. And wisely, she'd strictly forbidden Undyne and Papyrus from entering it.

Something about the room shifts briefly, and the hairs on Frisk's neck stand up, and suddenly Sans is in the room, right behind the couch.

"…that could've gone better," Frisk hears him mutter under his breath just as Papyrus and Undyne notice his presence.

"What the hell?" Undyne says-shouts, remembering to keep her voice down at the last moment, backpedaling and slipping off the couch in surprise.

"Language, Un—Sans, where did _you_ come from? And—Sans, are you alright?" Papyrus exclaims, clambering off the couch and heading straight for Sans. Undyne picks herself off the ground in the meanwhile.

Sans looks a little surprised, as though he's surprised Papyrus is helping him at all. Frisk realizes, their heart sinking, that living alone like this is so very lonely. But when Frisk looks closer, they can see cuts in his jacket and leaves hanging off his clothing that remind them worryingly of a certain yellow flower.

"Uh… yeah," Sans says awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the other. "I'm fine. Not even a scratch."

"What happened?" Papyrus fusses, picking leaves off Sans's skull. Frisk smiles a little at the sight.

"I had a, er, _run-in_ with a flower." Sans coughs.

"Flowey?" Frisk asks, leaning forward, heart racing. They'd completely forgotten about Flowey, and now that they realize it, guilt and shame washes through them. "You met Flowey?"

"He's not dangerous at the moment," Sans answers Frisk's unanswered question, nonchalantly putting his hands in his pockets… except his posture is stiff and he looks very uncomfortable.

He's been so lonely, he's forgotten how he used to interact with them.

This realization cuts Frisk right to their soul, and the fact that they hadn't picked up on it when they first met up with this timeline's Sans makes their spirits plummet further.

"Oh," they say, voice small. "That's good."

Sans is also regarding Frisk a new look of curiosity that they want to ask about, but honestly are too scared to. They wonder what Sans and Flowey had spoken about. It's probably Frisk. Flowey's always had an uncanny knowledge of the RESETs, and it's highly likely he already knows about what's going on.

"Sans," Papyrus huffs, sounding frustrated. "If whoever had attacked you actually hit you…" The skeleton shudders and seems to decide to cut off that train of thought. "Anyways! You should be careful, Sans!"

"I'll try." Sans quickly changes the subject, "Where are Toriel and Mettaton? Uh, smells nice in here. And looks clean." They'd all pitched in to help clear out the used mugs and trash, but hadn't touched any of the papers. Nobody wanted to look at them, either.

"They're making pie," Undyne answers, sounding disgruntled. "They didn't let us in the kitchen. Toriel said our cooking would be passionate enough to annoy the neighbors."

Frisk can't help but repress a giggle at that. Annoying the neighbors is an understatement. Even in the original timeline, Undyne's lucky that she only had a few neighbors, and that those in the area were tolerant of her "passionate" cooking.

Sans laughs lowly. It sounds hesitant, like he's uncertain. "Heh. That so. Well, while that's cooking, I'll, uh, move everything upstairs? Just so there's more space to move around."

"Do you need help?" Frisk offers, fidgeting. They're fairly certain Sans doesn't _want_ their help.

"No, it's fine—" And they were right.

"We'll all help you carry your many things into your room!" Papyrus declares, cutting Sans off. "There's far too much for you to carry alone!"

"Uh, if you insist." Frisk is relieved to see that even now, Sans can't say no to his brother. At least some things don't change.

"We do!" Undyne assures Sans, grabbing a huge stack of books just to prove a point. Frisk tentatively picks up a stack of papers close by and looks at Sans carefully.

His eye turns blue, his left hand taking on a similar glow, and the books in the room all rise up with the direction he raises his hand in, before he heads upstairs. It's something Frisk has seen before, but not used in this way. The last time Frisk had seen him use it was when he tossed them around the Judgement Hall. They try not to think about that.

"That is totally unfair," Undyne grumbles, walking beside Papyrus and Frisk up the stairs, heading towards Sans's room and deliberately ignoring Papyrus's. The door to Sans's room is open, and the lights are on, which is different to what Frisk is used to. There's no colorful smoke coming from beneath the door either.

Sans's room doesn't look much different from what Frisk remembers, just dustier. Not monster dust, just normal gray dust. It's clear Sans doesn't sleep here anymore.

It's gone awkwardly silent again, and Frisk is once again reminded of how terrible this timeline is as Sans puts the books down. Wherever he puts them, no matter how gently, a plume of dust rises. Frisk stifles a cough.

"So, uh, where should I put these?" Undyne breaks the silence, shifting her hold on the books and inclining her head around the stack.

"Just put them anywhere on the floor, I've read most of them anyways so I don't need to sort them until later. Put the papers on the bed or on the table."

Most of them? Frisk looks at the thick tomes in the room dubiously. They know Sans was (is?) studious, but… Shaking their head slightly to clear their thoughts, they drop the notes on Sans's bed gently after dusting it off.

Once they've moved everything upstairs, along with a chair (which only took one more trip, actually), Sans makes a sound that Frisk assumes is the skeleton version of clearing one's throat. "Thanks," he says awkwardly.

Before anybody else can say anything, which is a relief to all, Mettaton's voice drifts up from the first floor, "Pie's ready, darlings."

With that, everybody bolts downstairs, with the exception of Sans, who moves at his own pace as usual. When Frisk turns to look at him, they're not quite sure if it's habit or lack of habit.

Toriel spots Sans and smiles one of her warm motherly smiles. "Ah, Sans, you returned?" She holds out a slice of butterscotch-cinnamon pie, warm and straight out of the oven.

Sans blinks, looking briefly surprised, before an amused look crosses his face. "Thanks, but nah, I think the first slice should go to Pa-pie-rus."

It goes completely silent for a moment before everybody except Papyrus bursts out laughing. Frisk can tell Undyne's trying her best to keep her voice low, practically sticking her hand into her mouth.

" _Sans!_ "

"Hey, cut me some slack… I'm a bit crusty."

"Sans, _no_."

"Well, we heard the skeleton. First slice goes to Papyrus!" Toriel hands the plate to Papyrus, laughing into one hand as he takes it, looking disgruntled. "Alright, Sans, you can have the second piece." Leaving no room for argument, she puts the plate in his hands before cutting the next piece.

"Do you want some?" Frisk asks Mettaton, indicating his switch, after they receive their own piece. He'd switched to being a rectangle, mostly because it was less power consuming.

"No, it's fine," Mettaton responds, and Frisk can't tell if he's being truthful or not. Doubtfully, Frisk backs off. Clearly he's seen Frisk's expression, because he laughs. Robotically. "While I'm certain Toriel's pie is to die for, I do have a limited battery, and I don't want to squander it. I'll try it when I'm sure I can charge."

"Okay…" Frisk genuinely thinks it's a pity as they take a bite out of the pie. It's delicious, and fills Frisk with determination and warmth.

When they glance at Sans again, he's talking to Papyrus. His pie looks barely touched.

"He looks like he's having fun," Toriel comments from Mettaton's other side. "How about you, my child?"

"I'm fine, Mom." Frisk blinks, confused. She should be asking Sans that question, not Frisk.

"Frisk," Toriel says gently. "I'm asking you if you're alright. You've been through a lot as well." Her hand is warm, running through their hair soothingly.

Something pricks at Frisk's eyes, and distantly they hear Mettaton rolling away to join Sans, Papyrus, and Undyne. Toriel wraps her arms around them, and Frisk can smell butterscotch and cinnamon and _home_.

"Yeah," Frisk manages, sniffling. "I'm fine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ha I'm givin you guys some fluff to curb the angst
> 
> but don't worry my darlings there is more suffering on the way
> 
> also I SWEAR ALPHYS WILL APPEAR AND IT'LL BE SOON I SWEAR
> 
> next chapter: there is more Talking


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The skele and the orange human have a Talk. Also exposition. And crying.

You’re not too sure about how you feel about Frisk.

You know there’s a marked difference between them and their other personality, “Chara”, but they look identical. They share the same body. And they share the same memories.

Half of you is always ready to kill them, always ready to summon a blaster and incinerate them, because you remember the wicked grin and the brutal slash of the knife.

Half of you is always ready to help them out and ruffle their hair, teach them how to do a certain problem, because you remember their patient smile and stubborn MERCY.

But that doesn’t matter. You need to talk to them. Clear things up.

So as soon as you can bring yourself to tear away from your brother ( _ you still can’t believe he’s alive it feels like a dream _ ) and Frisk and Toriel are finished talking, you walk over to them.

It’s honestly a wonder how Toriel doesn’t hate you. She probably knows you’re the one who killed Frisk (or is it Chara?) in the Judgement Hall, and that you’re the one who spilled their blood and brought them withered flowers to show your disdain.

Or maybe she realizes you hate yourself enough for that and she’s pitying you.

“Frisk,” you say, voice low and serious. “We need to talk.”

When they turn to meet your gaze with puffy eyes, like they’ve been crying, they nod, as though they’ve expected you to say it. Despite their tearstained face, they look determined. “Yeah,” they reply, tone soft. “We do.”

You can see Frisk’s EXP and LOVE, both at the lowest possible amounts. You remember Chara’s EXP and LOVE, only one death away from reaching their maximum. You remember their EXP and LOVE, both at random amounts, sometimes with the dust of one monster on their hands, sometimes with far too much yet not enough.

Wordlessly you head upstairs, hearing Frisk’s soft footsteps following you up and into your room.

You navigate your way to your bed, the sheets still balled up and the mattress still old, just coated in a thin layer of dust. Ignoring it, you simply take a seat.

Frisk closes the door behind them, and they stand with their head bowed and hands behind their back.

“Your buddy. The one living in your head. They’re Chara, aren’t they?”

“Yeah,” Frisk answers, voice pitched low and hoarse. “But it’s not just Chara. There’s something else. Something else that’s attached itself to me since I fell into the Underground.”

You frown slightly.  _ Something else? _ You wonder if Flowey knows about this “something else”.

“I don’t know what it is, and it scares me,” Frisk admits, wringing their hands together. “It’s… it’s this feeling of intense curiosity. I’ve never felt it before I entered the Underground, and it comes in waves, as though somebody’s forcing their emotions on me.”

They lapse into silence for a few more moments, and you quietly digest this new information. Alarm bells are going off because it sounds like something  _ he’d _ do and with  _ him _ being in  _ there _ at the moment there’s no telling what  _ he _ can do.

“Like… all I want to do is get to the Surface and make everyone happy,” Frisk mumbles. “But this  _ curiosity _ won’t let me keep them happy. It keeps telling me,  _ what happens if I kill this person, and not kill another? _ And I  _ hate _ it because I don’t want to R-RESET a-again and r-ruin everyone’s h-happiness.

“B-but the longer I leave it a-alone, the g-greater the feeling is.” Frisk rubs furiously at their eyes. You make no move to help. “Until it b-becomes p-painful if I don’t R-RESET. So I k-keep RESET-ing over, and o-over, a-and then t-that feeling… it m-made me kill everyone.”

That explains the many different RESETs, at least. You still say nothing, merely shifting slightly and running everything through your head.

“Then Chara woke up. T-they s-said something t-to the  _ curiosity _ . As t-though it was a-another being. A-and then t-they killed  _ me _ . W-when I woke up again, I was b-back in the Underground, e-except Chara kept t-talking to me. A-and I s-somehow felt… different.

“Eventually, I found out that the  _ curiosity _ had given  _ my _ soul to Chara to bring back the world… apparently Chara broke it after they woke up. But then, the curiosity and Chara were both in control. I barely knew what I was doing. And Chara kept killing and killing and killing and I  _ hated it _ and I don’t think I ever wanted to d-die so b-badly before…”

Impassively, you watch as Frisk drops to the ground, sobbing quietly and burying their face in their hands. Through their hiccups, they manage, “My DETERMINATION to stop… i-it t-took over Chara’s and I-I made u-us take y-your MERCY. And I RESET. My D-DETERMINATION from t-that was e-enough to last me f-for the entire run w-without C-Chara bothering me.”

You don’t know when you’d gotten up and walked to Frisk’s side, but here you are, bending down and awkwardly petting their hair. Your mouth can’t physically be dry, but you certainly feel it as you try to search for words to use. “Frisk. Listen to me,” you say, keeping your voice low. Frisk visibly tries to stop their sniffling. You appreciate the effort.

“Can you RESET?”

It’s almost comical how Frisk chokes mid-sniffle, looking up at you with surprised eyes.

“Can you RESET?” you repeat, slower this time.

Frisk frowns, and does something. It’s hard to describe, but it’s what they do whenever they’re about to RESET.

“No—what? I can’t RESET,” they exclaim, sounding panicked. “I’ve always been able to, I can’t fix this timeline… What’s going on?”

You search for words to explain your hypothesis, one without the space-time science-y mumbo jumbo. “Uh. Okay. So imagine our timeline being a line. And when you RESET, you go back to somewhere along that line. Follow?”

Frisk nods, so you continue. “So there are a lot of parallel timelines as well. None of them intersect with ours, which is a bit of a relief, except the one you created.”

“I created?” Frisk asks slowly.

“Yeah. When you took my MERCY and RESET, you forcibly created another timeline branching from ours, leaving this ‘curiosity’ of yours and Chara behind in this one. Frisk, did you RESET at all?”

They shake their head. “I didn’t need to; I didn’t die at all last run.”

“Well, you  _ couldn’t _ have RESET, even if you tried, because your pacifist timeline was occurring in tandem with this one. What happens when two beings with great DETERMINATION are in the same timeline? Neither of them can RESET because their DETERMINATION cancel each other out.”

You can see it dawning on Frisk. “You probably did it out of your subconscious desire to stop RESET-ing and get a permanent happy ending. And you almost did, except an error occurred, or maybe it’s the timeline’s way of fixing itself. But it resulted in… well, this. You probably did something strange in one of these timelines.”

Frisk frowns, their tears evidently forgotten as they try and figure it out. “I… I  _ feel _ like I did something weird, but it’s like I can barely remember. I didn’t even realize until you pointed it out. But I can’t remember. I just know I did something different last run…”

You reach out and pat their head. “Hey, don’t think about it too much, kiddo. Come to me when you remember.” Standing up, you dust your shorts off and hold out a hand to Frisk, who takes it, wiping the last remains of their tears away.

“Sans,” they say quietly but clearly. You tilt your head slightly in their direction. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For being nice to me,” Frisk answers, and you almost want to laugh. It’s such a simple thing, yet Frisk looks at you with a gaze full of gratitude. “You didn’t have to. I know you don’t trust me, and you hate Chara.” They hesitate briefly. “Sans, if you… if you feel it’s too much to bear, you can tell someone. I know I’m just… just a kid, but I understand RESETs better than anyone else, except maybe Flowey. Or Papyrus. I know you don’t want him to shoulder that burden,” they add quickly at your expression. “But Papyrus is  _ strong _ . He can handle it, and he  _ wants _ to.”

You can’t deny Frisk’s words. You could feel worry and anxiety in his gaze whenever he looked at you, and your nonexistent stomach flipped with guilt every time.

You’ve considered telling him many times before, and you  _ have _ , one RESET. He hadn’t believed you, not really, at least until you couldn’t speak properly past a certain point. And honestly, it wasn’t worth it, because there was a RESET the next day.

“Kid,” you say at last after gathering your words. “You’re just going to RESET. It’s not really worth bothering Papyrus over. We’re going to fix this timeline, aren’t we?”

Frisk frowns. “What if we  _ can’t _ fix it, though? And even if we  _ do _ RESET and fix it, you’ll still remember this timeline.” They reach for your hand, grasping it loosely in their own two smaller hands. “Please… Sans. Think about yourself, for once.”

You laugh a small and hollow laugh, blinking rapidly. There’s something at the corner of your eye sockets. “Heh…” you say, suddenly feeling choked. “What if… what if I honestly don’t know how?”

Distantly you register Frisk dropping your hand and it hanging limply at your side. A pair of small and thin arms drape around your shoulders, and through your blurry vision you can see brown hair and a blue sweater. “Then you’ll just have to learn, you stupid doo-doo butt,” Frisk tells you, and you can feel their fond smile.

* * *

 

“Are you two punks feeling better?” Undyne asks as soon as you and Frisk exit the room. You have a thick folder under your arm. She’s turned around from the board game on the ground with Toriel, Mettaton, Papyrus, and her sitting around it.

“Lots,” Frisk replies, smiling a smile that only barely curls their mouth. “What are you guys playing?” They trot over to their crowded circle and slip under Toriel’s arm.

“Monopoly!” Papyrus declares with his best inside voice. “Sans, join us!”

“Sorry, can’t,” you say apologetically, genuinely disappointed. You tap the folder under your arm. “I gotta pop over to Grillby’s and get something for Alphys and the others. While it’s not much healthier, it’s certainly  _ better _ than living off instant noodles.”

“Others?” Mettaton inquires, moving a piece on the board.

“Napstablook and Monster Kid,” you reply, stretching slightly. You’ve never understood how your joints can pop but you’ve also decided not to think about it too much. “Whelp, see you guys later.”

Just as you open the door, Undyne calls, “Hey, Sans.” You stop, just to indicate you heard her. “Could you… never mind.”

You have a good idea of what she wanted to say, but you make no comment, just inclining your head and shutting the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALPHYS NEXT CHATPER FUCKIN FINALLY  
> also sans finally cried are you happy YOU BETTER BE FUCKEN HAPPY  
> btw don’t worry friends the happiness never lasts for long you’re welcome  
> also sincere apologies for the late chapter this week was my birthday week so I thought it would be ok if I took a break


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alphys appears (FINALLY), Monopoly, and relationships.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for late upload!
> 
> but honestly i feel this is more comfortable for me

You enter Alphys’s lab without knocking, but you give a call. “Hey. I’m here with food.”

Napstablook phases into the room from a wall at your shout. “Oh hey, Sans… Welcome back…”

“I’d ask you if you wanted any, but.” You give a half shrug and the ghost nods.

“Do you want me to get Alphys and Monster Kid…?” they ask, and you notice that they’re wearing their headphones. They were probably making some music. It isn’t much, but their music really does provide some semblance of entertainment to the monsters. “Megalovania” is insanely popular for some reason. You much prefer “It’s Raining Somewhere Else”.

“That’d be great,” you reply, raising a finger and picking up all the trash off the ground to make space for walking, tossing it into a trashcan in the corner. It looks practically unused, not that you can blame Alphys, since she doesn’t have magic. You wouldn’t want to get off the ground while sobbing and re-watching  _ Madoka Magica _ for the fiftieth time to do something as unnecessary as throw away trash either.

Napstablook disappears, the headphones dropping to the carpeted ground in their little music making area. You’re pretty sure the main reason they even have carpet in that area is because Napstablook has a bad habit of disappearing out of nowhere, and they often forget to bring their headphones with.

You take a seat at Alphys’s table, going over the blueprints and different computers with a critical eye, marking a couple of things with your own suggestions in blue marker. After a few moments, you hear footsteps coming, and the door to Alphys’s lower lab opens.

“I heard food,” Alphys says, pushing up her dirty glasses and marching over to you, followed by Monster Kid. You hand one of the bags to her and Monster Kid takes the other, levitating it with their own magic and trotting over to Napstablook’s corner to give the ghost’s music a few listens.

You’d been teaching Monster Kid a little blue magic. They aren’t that good at, since they aren’t naturally attuned to it like you and Papyrus are, but they’re actually decent at it, and can pick up a few things without too much trouble. It makes up for the lack of arms.

“You heard food,” you agree, dropping the folder on the table. Alphys groans as she takes a vicious bite of her burger like it’s the source of all her problems.

“ _ More? _ ” she complains. “How much work do they think we can get done, exactly? I mean, the amalgamates help out a ton when they aren’t feeling too crazy, but it’s barely anything because they usually end up getting goo over everything!”

“I’d suggest we get a team, but honestly there are only two monsters in the Underground who know jack shit about science, and that’s us.” You stir a fry in ketchup. “Well, not counting those who fell into the CORE. Not that they’d help much.”

Alphys snorts. “If anything that’d just give us more work.”

Both of you go silent for a few moments. You’re not really hungry, and the ketchup coated fry is looking less and less appetizing. She respects your hesitance to talk, and you respect hers; it’s something both of you understand about each other.

You’re contemplating how you’re going to break the news about Frisk’s pacifist timeline to Alphys. Really, you’re lucky that you disabled the cameras in the Judgement Hall and your house a while ago.

“…hey, Alphys?”

“Mm?”

“You know what  _ we _ were studying, right?” The way you say  _ we _ is enough for Alphys to know it’s not about you and Alphys—it’s about you and  _ him _ .

Alphys fixes you with a curious look. “Souls and time travel and all those shenanigans I don’t understand, right?”

“Yeah, timelines, and the ability for humans who fall into the Underground to RESET.” You end up tossing the soggy fry into the trashcan. It misses.

“What’s this about?”

You pause to form your words. Alphys gives you your time, most likely because she does it too. She obviously half-expects you to just drop the subject.

“Well, I found out that our timeline just… split in half,” you end lamely. Alphys raises an eyebrow, clearly a bit lost here. “Okay… so imagine our timeline is a straight line.” You’re just repeating what you told Frisk.

“Yes, and when a being with DETERMINATION comes to the Underground, they can jump to certain ‘checkpoints’ or SAVEs in time. You’ve explained this to me before.”

“Uh, yeah. So apparently our timeline split into two. In other words, there were two different beings with equal DETERMINATION in the same timeline, so the neither of them in either branch could RESET.”

“…”

“So basically, this branch timeline is the reason why the seventh soul hasn’t RESET yet. This other branch timeline… something made a glitch, or maybe the timeline tried to fix itself.”

“Are you saying that there are alternate versions of us running around?” Alphys inquires, though you can hear the note of hope in her voice— _ is Undyne alive? Is she here? _

“No, but it brought over several other monsters.”

“Oh my god.” Alphys has her hands clasped over her face, trying to keep her breathing under control. You reach over and rub soothing circles into her back like what you’ve done for her so many times and vice versa. “Oh my god.”

You look over Alphys’s shoulder, nodding slightly when Napstablook and Monster Kid give you two concerned glances. Alphys is shaking, breathing heavily, but it’s evening itself out slowly.

Once you’re sure she’s got it under control, you pull away and pat her hand. “You, uh, wanna see them?” you ask in a low tone.

“God, yes. I do.” You hand her a tissue, and she sniffles into it, wiping away her tears and clearing off her glasses. She looks like hell, but if you know Undyne, she’d probably think her as pretty as ever.

“A word of, uh, warning though. The human’s with them.” At Alphys’s alarmed look, you add hastily, “They aren’t murderous, trust me. Frisk’s actually a really good kid, and they were actually about to break the barrier.” You laugh a bit bitterly at that. “Though… we could do that. Not that we’d want to.” Clearing your throat, you ask again, “You sure you wanna…?”

“Yes, Sans, I do.” Alphys gives you an exasperated look. “And now.”

You stand, grinning slightly. “Yes, ma’am. Hey, Napstablook, MK, we’re gonna be out for a bit. Hold down the fort for us, won’t you?”

“Okay!” Monster Kid calls, sounding distracted, before returning to switching up the music. Satisfied, you hold a hand out to Alphys, who takes it, and you lead her into another room before taking a shortcut.

Taking a shortcut is actually pretty interesting, if you say so yourself. Honestly, you prefer entering another room and shortcutting; it’s easier to reattach two different places than to do it from a standing position. When you do,  _ you _ have to create that split second of nothingness before you pick a place to enter.

Yeah, confusing shit.

The world reforms to Snowdin, and in front of your house. “Wait here a moment, Al.” She complies, looking a lot less confident, and fidgets as you enter.

It appears they’re still playing Monopoly and Undyne looks like she’s about to quit out of rage. The sight makes you grin slightly. “Hey, I don’t mean to ruin your fun, but I brought a friend.”

It’s rather amusing how fast all the heads turn towards you. “Alphys, you can come in, now. Close the door behind you.”

For a second, you think she’s about to panic again, but thankfully she gets herself under control. “Hi… it’s been a while. Well, I guess for me, not really for you guys.”

“Hello, dear,” Toriel says, smiling warmly at Alphys. “Would you like to play Monopoly with us?”

Alphys looks genuinely surprised, giving you a strange look, and you remember that she’s never met Toriel before. “Oh, this is Toriel, caretaker of the Ruins,” you tell her. “Asgore’s ex,” you mutter under your breath to her, mostly because you’re not sure how Toriel would react to that particular statement. Alphys lets out a wordless “oh”.

“Um, sure. It’s nice to meet you, Miss Toriel,” Alphys says politely, pushing up her glasses for the umpteenth time, making her way to sit next to Undyne and Mettaton. You see her carefully ignoring Frisk.

“You too, Sans,” Papyrus chimes in, his cheer lightening the awkward mood that had settled over the room.

“Er—are there even enough pieces for that?”

“You can just be on my team!” Papyrus decides for you, and, well, it’s  _ Papyrus _ and you’ve never been able to say no to him, so you take a seat between him and Frisk.

Of course it dissolves into angry half-shouts and bickering over territory and you just laugh as you watch it dissolve into barely contained chaos.

* * *

 

You look at the wall, frowning and wondering exactly how much more soundproofing you’re going to need now. One of these days Papyrus or Undyne’s going to slip up by accident and shout loudly enough to arouse suspicion, especially considering that neither you nor Alphys ever shout.

Speaking of Alphys, there have been rumors about the two of you lately, which frankly disturbs you because of the thought of being in a  _ relationship _ and having to deal with  _ feelings _ and because Undyne will absolutely decimate you if you even think about it.

Besides Alphys is pretty much unisexual for a certain angry fish lady.

Looking behind you, you allow yourself a fond smile. Your friends had all worn themselves out and passed out on the floor, and in a rare moment of non-laziness you’d gotten out the extra blankets you have from whenever Undyne would sleep over and tossed them over them.

Honestly, it’s a bit ironic, seeing that you’re the only one awake while everybody else is sleeping.

You head up the stairs, mentally calculating how much soundproofing material you’ll need as you make your way up the stairs and picking up more paperwork from your room. It’s a lot less than yesterday, since you’d done most of it and dropped it off on Alphys, and more paperwork only comes in in a few days.

Spotting your journal, you stare at it, contemplating whether you should take it downstairs or not. After a few moments of deliberation, you pick it up and head back, taking a seat on the floor next to the Papyrus shaped lump on the ground. Toriel and Frisk had fallen asleep on the couch together, leaving no space for you.

Your journal really is quite old. When you crack it open, it literally makes a faint cracking sound and you wince slightly at the amount of dust gathering on it, which you quickly brush off.

Not that it looks much better. It’s stained with a bloodlike substance—your “blood”. Or your DETERMINATION, something you’d much rather not think about at the moment. The journal glows faintly with the same blue as your soul, as you’d infused it with a piece of it many years ago—before even Flowey had come.

You’re careful not to let any of the pages stuffed haphazardly into it fall out, and completely ignore the later pages. They’re mostly filled with tally marks of the RESETs and times you’d killed either Flowey or Chara, or the amount of times they’d killed… You cut your train of thought off.

No. You’re looking for the earliest entries. The entries about  _ him _ .

The entries about Wing Din Gaster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> heh al finally appeared are you guys happy
> 
> and if you guys checked the tags you would’ve realized I added in Flowey and Gaster before they both appeared haha so spoiler tags literally
> 
> btw I really like the idea of Monster Kid having a way to carry things because they’re super precious and they’d most likely want to help Alphys out as much as they can
> 
> this probably isn’t gonna be mentioned later so basically MK pestered sans into teaching them how to do blue magic/levitation
> 
> and I hope my description of how Sans’s shortcuts work is adequate?  
> if not basically you know how when you move from room to room in a game, it goes completely dark? basically Sans can manipulate that and if he’s not moving from room to room he has to make the entire world nothing before he can move from place to place
> 
> hey if resets and saves are thing in canon then this can be too
> 
> whoa super long a/n. but one more thing guys, would you be interested in a “what-if” scenario where sans actually dies/kills himself and somebody else finds the Pacifist group/they wander out? it’s dark and depressing and I love it. if you wanna write it, go ahead and do so or I could write it :D


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the angst returns. Also integrity and being honest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: a bit of self-harm/implication of it. A lot of self-hatred. Character death. Angst.

_ XX-XX-XXXX _

_ Doctor Gaster told us to keep a journal and infuse it with a piece of our souls and some DETERMINATION. Apparently humans can “RESET”, and if we added some to our journals, we would be able to retain what we wrote even if the timeline RESET. _

_ Gaster is really cool _ The text here is scribbled out in furious blue marker.

_ -Sans _

You run a finger along the round and neat handwriting, the time you wrote this feeling so, so long ago—you barely remember it. The only way you can believe it happened is the fact that you wrote it, and even then you barely do. Your handwriting is nowhere near as neat as it used to be.

You can barely remember the days when Gaster was airheaded, cheerful, optimistic and so kind. The days when you’d spent so many hours just trying to get in and work with the renowned scientist and the disbelief and excitement when you got the job. The days when you were actually motivated. When you felt you could actually climb out of bed.

Then something changed. He became focused. Ruthless. Cruel. Manipulative. It wasn’t sudden; it was gradual, kinda, though you have no idea how you missed it, now that you look back on it. Your journal entries are proof of that. At some point, you had started keeping a separate journal that talked about the more social and personal aspect of your work.

You’re looking at that right now.

It’s dredging up tons  _ (a skele _ **_ton_ ** _ ) _ of bad memories that you’d really rather not think about, but right now, you have to find a way to fix this timeline. It’s hell for all of your friends, for everyone in the Underground, for  _ Papyrus _ , and you want to get them out.

If your theory on what Frisk had done is correct… well, then, you’re honestly scared out of your skin. Heh.

You take a shuddering breath, lean just a bit more against the Papyrus-shaped lump behind you, and turn the page.

* * *

 

“That’s… a human?” you asked, not entirely certain if you were wrong or not. Surely that thing couldn’t be one of those terrifying beings that everybody talked about, right…?

They were small, barely even reaching up to  _ your _ shoulder, and you were pretty short too. The human had short red hair and pale skin, along with battered, thin shoes and a ridiculous frilly dress around their waist. You thought it was something called a “tutu”, something you’d seen in one of Alphys’s anime series.

“Yes. Quite young, at that.” Gaster’s voice sent shivers of fear down your spine. It’d developed a strange echo recently, and you didn’t like it. Neither did any of your team. It was… unnatural. “It’s a female.”

You didn’t like how Gaster called her an “it” either, but you didn’t say anything. Shamefully, you realized once more that you were terrified of him. He probably knew it, too.

“So, uh, why did you call me out here?” you inquired, voice low. The human trotted through Waterfall with a childish look of curiosity, and your nonexistent stomach plummeted even further—she couldn’t be much older than Papyrus. Your soul clenched.

“I want you to kill her,” Gaster said, as though it were a perfectly normal thing to say. Flabbergasted, you looked at him, unsure if you’d really just heard that.

“H-hey, Doc, you’re kidding, right?” You were unable to hide the tremor in your voice, and Gaster looked at you strangely, as though you weren’t supposed to be shocked at the prospect of murdering a child.

“Joking? You know I never joke about science, Sans. Go kill it. It shouldn’t be much trouble for you, especially after those adjustments I gave you.”

Ah. The adjustments. You shivered just thinking about how painful that process had been. You realized he probably wanted you to kill her because he wanted to observe you. The thought disgusted you. “Gaster, you’re telling me to murder an innocent  _ child _ .”

Gaster fixed you with a Look that had you petrified. Immediately you knew you’d fucked up and said something wrong. “Sans. That is a human. We need its soul to break the barrier. Now do your job and kill it.”

“ _ She _ hasn’t hurt anybody!” you hissed in return, feeling a spark of rage ignite, briefly taking over the fear. You rarely felt angry, but hearing Gaster call a  _ kid _ who hadn’t hurt anybody an “it” and telling you to kill her made you… less than pleased.

“And how do you know that?” Gaster retorted, voice clipped. “Humans are unpredictable, Sans. You have no clue what they can do.”

“Doc, she hasn’t gained  _ any _ Execution Points or Level of Violence despite the fact that us monsters are attacking her! She could’ve acted in self-defense, but she refused to hurt anybody.”

Gaster studied you with a strange look on his face, like you were a particularly difficult math equation. You hated that look, and you wondered what you said wrong. “Ah. So you can see Level of Violence and Execution Points without performing a CHECK? How interesting. But as usual with our discussions, we are far off topic. Sans, dispose of the human right now.”

“ _ No _ . She’s just a kid, she’s  _ Papyrus’s _ age! She just wants to get back home!”

“And she’s obstructing our way to breaking the barrier, Sans.” Gaster sounded displeased. “I fail to see why you’re being so difficult.” Before you could say anything, Gaster glowered at you. “ **Do it.** **_Now._ ** ”

Primal fear washed over you from head to toe. You shook, feeling something beading at the back of your head. It was absolutely silent for a few moments.

“Y-yes. Yes, Doctor,” you whispered, yielding, swallowing and hating yourself for it.

“Very good.” Gaster smiled one of his horrible smiles and handed you a glass container, which you took with shaking hands. “Don’t drop it, and retrieve the human’s soul for me.”

Why were you doing this? Why did this have to be the only job you could get? When did you start to  _ hate _ this job, this job you’d dreamt of for years as a baby bones?  _ Why did the little girl have to die when she did nothing wrong? _

You approached the human, tremors wracking through your body. It was just you and the human, standing in Waterfall. For a second, the crazy thought of just taking her and running passed through your skull but it disappeared as soon as it came—Gaster would kill you. You could feel him watching.

“Hey.” Your voice was surprisingly steady, and the little girl jumped, looking up at you with wide eyes. She was small, smaller than you, with mud smeared on her pale face and blue, blue eyes looking through you. “I’m Sans. Sans the Skeleton.”

“Are you… are you here to kill me?” asked the girl bluntly. She played with the hem of her tutu. “Please don’t lie. I don’t like it when people lie to me. It makes me feel stupid.”

You didn’t know what to say, and she stared at you boldly, eyes sad. “It’s okay,” she said. “I don’t mind, if you need my soul that badly. Every monster down here’s been really friendly… if I just talked to them they’d stop. But you don’t look like you want to kill me. So it looks like you  _ have _ to.”

“Yeah,” you whispered, voice hoarse. “I have to. But I don’t want to.” You couldn’t bring yourself to look at her. She’s just a little  _ girl _ , harmless and kind and honest and you don’t want to kill her.

You could feel her piercing stare, and you laugh mirthlessly. “Why… the world’s so unfair. I can’t even bring myself to hate you, and I have to kill you.”

“It’s okay,” she repeated. “I don’t mind too much. The surface isn’t much fun. My parents… well, they aren’t around anymore, so I ran away from home.” When you could bring yourself to look at her once more, she opened her arms and smiled, a smile so heartbreakingly sad and you wanted to cry because that expression didn’t belong on anyone, let alone a child. “And… you guys need my soul more than I do.”

Her name was in yellow.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked out, voice breaking.

“It’s not your fault,” the human replied.

FIGHT.

Whether it was out of a small bit of rebellion or out of your inability to control yourself, you didn’t use Gaster’s “adjustments”.

* * *

 

Her soul was a beautiful dark blue, and you felt something inside you break.

* * *

 

“—s! Wake up! It’s just a bad dream, you’re okay, Sans!”

Something’s shaking your shoulder, and you snap awake with a sharp intake of air. Dimly you’re aware of how dry your throat is and that there’s something wet on your face and that somebody warm is holding you.

Mostly you’re trying your best not to panic, breathing in slowly and counting to ten to calm your racing thoughts.

Just a bad dream. Just a memory. Gaster is dead. He can’t hurt you.

(You still killed an innocent child.)

Slowly you regain your senses, something soft tickling your face. It’s familiar and red and you’re suddenly aware it’s Papyrus’s scarf and that he’s holding you tight and rubbing awkward circles into your back.

“’m fine,” you say as soon as you can muster the breath to, a wave of embarrassment washing over you and you gently extricate yourself from his grip. You belatedly realize that you still have your journal clasped tightly in your hand. One look at the entry you’d fallen asleep on and you realize exactly why you had that dream in particular.

Papyrus looks at you with a concerned gaze that you don’t deserve.

“I’m fine,” you repeat, mostly to convince yourself. You don’t really do a good job because you know fully well that you’re not.

“Sans,” Frisk murmurs, tapping you on the arm lightly in that way of theirs. “It’s okay to talk to us.” They hesitate before adding very, very quietly, “Was it about the RESETs?”

You shake your head. “Wasn’t about you, kid. About… something else.” Louder, you add, “It’s nothing really. I was probably asking for it, dredging up bad memories on purpose.” Carefully, you avoid looking at Toriel.

“What kind of memories?” Alphys asks. “It wasn’t about—”

“No, it wasn’t. It was about Ga—someone else.” You catch yourself, reminding yourself harshly that nobody except you and Alphys remembers anything about Gaster. Alphys studies you carefully; you’d told her about him before.

“Is there somebody I have to give a nice talk to?” Clearly Undyne had caught the slip, just like everyone else. Her voice had dropped to something far more dangerous, and it’s times like these where you’re forcibly reminded that Undyne  _ earned _ her title as the Captain of the Royal Guard.

“You can yell into the CORE if you want,” you suggest jokingly, though your heart isn’t really in it. (Ha, ha.) You’re probably the only one who even gets that joke other than Alphys, cemented further by the fact that the others give you weird looks. Alphys doesn’t seem to find it really funny. Her eyes sharpen just a little more.

“ _ Sans _ . Stop joking and please tell us what’s wrong,” Toriel says. You choose to look down into your lap instead of look at her, flashes of the little girl’s calm acceptance of death flickering in your vision. You didn’t even know her name.

All humor, fake or not, disappears from your voice. “Somebody…” You swallow, a bit surprised you’re even saying this. “Somebody died. In my dream.”

“Was it me—” Frisk asks, sounding horribly guilty before you cut them off.

“ _ I _ killed her. I didn’t even know her name. And s-she said it was okay.” You stutter slightly, voice catching in your throat. There are no tears. There isn’t even any emotion in your voice, and it sounds hollow even to your ears. “She couldn’t have been much older than  _ Frisk _ and she said it wasn’t my fault when I killed her.”

You can’t bring yourself to look up. Instinctively you draw up your knees to your chest and dig your fingers into your skull. It’s painful, just how you want it. “No LOVE, no EXP, and the only reason I killed her is because if I didn’t,  _ he’d _ do…  _ something _ . Something to me, or Papyrus or somebody else and  _ he’d _ get away with it because who’d take  _ my _ word over  _ his _ ?

“After all, it’s all in the name of  _ science _ and  _ breaking the barrier _ and  _ supporting monster kind _ . Who gives a shit about a few innocent children dying along the way?” you spit, surprising even yourself with how venomous and bitter your voice is.

It’s absolutely silent.

“You know what the worst part is? He wasn’t always a bad person. He used to crack jokes. Used to be the biggest airhead, forgetting about huge projects Asgore assigned him. Did stupid shit with his knowledge just for laughs. And now, nobody even remembers him.”

You stand unsteadily and don’t look at anybody. For a long while it’s quiet. “Sorry,” you say, feeling drained. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Sa—”

Wordlessly you leave the room, ignoring whoever had called after you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the angst is back guys I repeat the angst is back
> 
> I TOLD U IT’D COME BACK
> 
> btw there will be a lot of Metta in the next chapter


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mettaton and Sans talk. Alphys lets something slip by accident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suicide/Suicidal thoughts. Self-hatred, though that’s to be expected from this fic. Angst.

You look over the balcony, the wind nipping at your face. You ignore the feeling.

It isn’t much of a jump from here to the ground below. Would you dust if you hit the ground? Your HP is low as it is, and at the moment your defense is at zero, your soul unable to summon anything to try and defend its host.

“Don’t even think about it, darling.”

“Think what?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about, Sans.”

You slide a glance towards Mettaton, who’s switched to his EX form, most likely just to get up the stairs. You feel vaguely flattered that he’d done that just to talk to you, but it’s muted, something you barely feel.

“Nope, sorry. No clue.” You’re lying through your teeth and both you and Mettaton knows it. He makes no comment on it, though he leans on the balcony with you.

The two of you are completely silent for a while before Mettaton breaks the ice again. (You snort inwardly at that one.) “I told everyone to stay downstairs. Thought you might appreciate it. They’re all worried sick, by the way.”

“Tell them they shouldn’t waste their time on me then,” you respond, burying your face into the sleeves of your jacket. The  _ I’m not worth it _ hangs between you and Mettaton, who clearly catches onto it.

He heaves a sigh. “Sweetie, nobody’s ‘wasting’ their time on you. They’re doing it out of choice, and you shouldn’t think it’s a waste. You’re important to them.”

“I killed five children, Mettaton,” you say, exhausted. The snow on the ground isn’t very thick. At the very least it’d hurt if you fell. That’d be fine too. “Four of which didn’t deserve it.”

Mettaton is quiet for a few moments before speaking again. “I’m not going to pretend I know everything about what you’re going through, or even know what happened. But you should know that it wasn’t your fault. Whoever this person is, he made you do this.”

“And I was too afraid to defy him.” Your voice comes out as a whisper. “It’s pathetic. I couldn’t do the right thing because I was  _ scared _ of him. Of what he’d do to me or Papyrus.” You dig your fingers into the cloth of your jacket. You feel disgusting. You  _ are _ disgusting.

“That’s perfectly normal, Sans, you don’t have to blame yourself.” Mettaton sounds frustrated. “Why can’t you see that none of this is your fault?”

“You should go back downstairs, Mettaton.” You don’t bother replying to him. “You don’t have to talk to me out of obligation.”  _ I’m beyond saving. _

“ _ Goddammit _ , Sans!” When he grabs your shoulders forcibly and turns you around, you stare up at him, eyes wide with surprise. “We’re doing this because we care, Sans, not out of obligation!  _ I’m _ doing this because I’m worried about you.  _ None _ of us want you to die, and I can’t believe I actually have to say this, but Papyrus would be absolutely devastated if you died.”

“Heh,” you force out, grinning weakly. “What’s with this talk about dying?” You know exactly what he’s talking about. Your stats are at the lowest point, all zeroes, except your HP, at one, and wavering even there. You know how dangerously close you are to falling down, and frankly you don’t think you’d mind. (You know that’s exactly what he’s afraid of.)

“Stop pretending, Sans.” He leaves no room for you to look away. “I know exactly what you were considering. Alphys has done so in the past, and it’s only because—”

“I know,” you interrupt, voice quiet and losing all fake humor immediately. Something in his expression softens. You raise your hands and gently pry his off your shoulders. “I know.” And of course you know. You were there with Alphys when she killed herself during all those RESETs, and you didn’t stop her.

Not even once, because you understood. Under _ stand _ .

(There are fates worse than death.)

Frisk or Chara always RESET afterwards, anyways.

Mettaton’s hands drop to his sides. He backs off slightly, and you allow your gaze to drop to the ground. You laugh lowly.  _ (You keep laughing. You keep laughing so hard. It’s so funny. You laugh so hard tears stream down your cheeks… what? you didn’t do that?)  _ There’s nothing funny about this situation. “You know… I wonder if I died, if I’d wake up in Snowdin. Wake up to Papyrus shouting and calling me a lazybones again.”

A bitter smile twists your face. “I’ve never wanted a RESET more in my life. Heh… it’s funny, isn’t it?” You dimly realize you’re not really talking to Mettaton but you can’t really care at the moment. Your slippers blur. “I wanted them to stop. Stop RESET-ing. Just… leave us be. But now I keep waiting, begging for a RESET. And it’s probably never going to come.”

“S—”

You hastily reach up to rub away the tears when you realize what they are. “…you should go back downstairs,” you say again to cut him off, changing the subject and pulling up your hood around your face.

There’s a long moment of silence before you hear footsteps. They fade away, leaving you alone to your thoughts.

* * *

 

Frisk’s heart aches painfully, Toriel holding them gently ( _ even when it’s clear she’s in distress, she’s helping Frisk _ ), but they barely notice. They’d caught a glimpse of Sans’s expression as he left the room.

He’d looked so…

The clinking of metal distracts Frisk from their thoughts, and they turn towards the stairs, where Mettaton’s coming down with an unreadable expression on his face.

“I don’t think he wants to talk to anyone at the moment.” Mettaton answers the unasked question hanging in the tense air. He sounds frustrated. “I think he believes we hate him. Which isn’t an unreasonable assumption—” the robot glares at Undyne and Papyrus, who open their mouths to protest this statement. “ _ Let me finish! _ Like I said, it isn’t an unreasonable assumption given his current mental state. He also mentioned RESETs or something, which I honestly didn’t understand.”

“A RESET is something a being with incredible DETERMINATION can do,” Frisk speaks up quietly. “It’s basically… making ‘checkpoints’ along the way from the Ruins to the Barrier, and if they die, they can just RESET. Turn back time to their most recent SAVE, or ‘checkpoint’.”

Alphys grows increasingly nervous as Frisk mentions DETERMINATION, and they don’t blame her, especially considering the nature of those experiments. Frisk remembers that Alphys  _ hasn’t _ confessed about the Amalgamates in this timeline. “Flowey. Me. We’re both beings with a lot of DETERMINATION, except… Flowey lost that ability when I fell into the Underground, because my DETERMINATION was greater than his.”

They hesitate briefly. “Sans… he remembers them. All of them. The RESETs, I mean. From when Flowey started to when I fell. Flowey… he doesn’t like Sans very much.” That’s an understatement. Flowey  _ despises _ Sans, Frisk knows. Papyrus looks confused, and Frisk remembers that Flowey and Papyrus are pretty good friends, even if it’s completely one-sided. “I don’t know what happened before I fell, but… I don’t think it was very good.”

“What’s preventing you from RESET-ing now?” Mettaton inquires, leaning against the banister and crossing his arms.

“Sans and I talked about it, and he thinks it’s because there are two of me in this timeline.” Frisk tries to think of anything else Sans said. They didn’t quite understand what he’d said, mostly because of all the theorizing and mumbo jumbo. “Um…”

“Basically the timeline split into two,” Alphys chimes in helpfully. She’s still avoiding Frisk’s gaze, which hurts just a bit, but they can understand her reasoning. “The human’s soul still exists in this timeline as well as F-Frisk’s. Their DETERMINATION is equivalent, so neither of them can RESET.”

Alphys scratches her cheek embarrassedly. “Sorry, that’s really all I know… RESETs and timelines were always more Sans and Gaster’s area of expertise. I’m more about machinery and stuff.”

“Gaster…?” Papyrus inquires, tilting his head and frowning. “Who is that? This monster sounds familiar.”

Toriel has a strange look on her face, and Frisk looks up at her in confusion. “Gas…ter… That name sounds incredibly familiar. I forget where I heard it from.”

And indeed, Frisk feels the same way. They’d probably heard about this “Gaster” in a passing conversation, but there’s probably something more behind it.

Alphys slaps a hand over her mouth. “Oh, um.” She looks around shiftily, laughing awkwardly. “Forget I said a-anything. G-Gaster’s nobody.”

“Who  _ is _ this guy?” Undyne asks, and Frisk can see her chewing her lip with sharp teeth. “C’mon, Al, even  _ I’ve _ heard of this guy before, though I can’t remember where.”

“It’s not my place to tell,” Alphys mutters, her hands moving away from her face slowly as though she’s afraid she’ll slip up again. “Seriously, don’t ask me. I don’t really know much about him either, and I end up forgetting his name most days…”

Belatedly, Frisk realizes that this Alphys has lost her stutter. They feel… like she’d lost something important. Frisk  _ knows _ Alphys hates her stutter, but they feel like this Alphys lost it out of necessity, and not because of healing.

“Oh… dammit! I forgot, I have to get some work done now.” Alphys stands up hastily, dusting herself off. “I  _ really _ shouldn’t have stayed so long, jeez, MK and Napstablook are gonna worry.” She adjusts her glasses hastily and starts rapidly dialing a number into her phone as she races towards the door. “Sorry, I’ll visit again soon, bye!”

The door shuts behind her, and Frisk hears a muffled,  _ “Sorry guys, I got caught up in something—we were just taking a break, yeah I’m feeling better…” _

Once her voice has trailed off completely, they sit in absolute silence. Frisk is once again reminded of how… empty this house feels.

“Do you… do you think Sans and Alphys will be okay?” Papyrus asks quietly. He looks so upset that Frisk crawls out of Toriel’s arms and towards him, patting him on the arm.

“I’m sure they’ll be fine,” Toriel reassures him calmly, and Frisk is glad to see that she doesn’t seem upset with Sans. “They’ve… just been through a lot.”

“God, I just… this…” Undyne sighs and worries at her lip again. It’s more like chewing it up. “This isn’t okay, and they aren’t okay, either. And… this Alphys and our Alphys are different, aren’t they? Am I a bad person for saying that…?”

“No, I understand what you mean,” Mettaton answers, remaining calm as usual. “They’re both  _ Alphys _ , but… this one is a year older, and her experiences shaped her a different way. I think… I think she realized that about you, too, Undyne—she still loves you, but she knows there’s a difference between you and this timeline’s.”

“Sans… is the same, though.” Frisk thinks to the exhaustion they see in every single run. “He’s… the same one in every timeline. Because he remembers. Even if we fix this timeline… you guys might not remember. And… he will.”

There’s silence after this statement.

“He does know he can always talk to us, right?” Toriel asks, sounding unsure.

“I told him that and I think he was going to try…” Frisk swallows. “I think whatever he dreamed about… ruined that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyways i've always thought that metta knows how to deal with people, mostly people like alphys and sans, he literally lives with alphys so
> 
> hoo boy you guys are gonna have so much fun with chapters 9 and 10
> 
> that's all i'm gonna say (:
> 
> and holy crap 800+ hits you guys are too good to me haha


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans has a very bad idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sans has a very bad idea and the author laughs at your suffering

Waterfall is as silent as usual. Not even the echo flowers offer anything to say but the remains of hurried footsteps from the mass evacuation.

You walk through the quiet aimlessly with nothing but the trickle of water and your thoughts to keep you company. Your slippers muffle your own footsteps.

Once you’ve made it halfway through getting lost, you realize you’ve just been… drifting. Thinking of nothing, walking with no destination. You should stop wallowing in self-pity and think of a solution, a way out of this mess.

Your notebook is in your pocket, and you feel it every time you shift your fingers ever so slightly. You wonder how you could’ve thought reading it would be a good idea, and you’d gotten absolutely nothing helpful out of it except a few half-formed ideas that would probably never work.

It just dredged up bad memories.

A flash of yellow, and you’re reminded forcibly of the fact that you had angered Flowey only yesterday. You wonder if he’ll attack you again. You wonder if you’ll dodge.

“Howdy, Sans! Not looking too peachy there.” The flower smiles up at you, fake, fake, fake, and you can tell in the way that there’s a sadistic edge to it that you know he’s still pissed off.

“Flowey,” you answer, not really in the mood. “Why are you still in Waterfall?”

Flowey’s expression doesn’t change. “Oh, I just had a feeling you’d be here,” he responds, and that just about confirms it. You know he has something planned for you, and you aren’t sure that you wouldn’t let it happen to you. He probably knows that. “I have a way to fix this timeline. Theoretically.”

“Yeah?” You aren’t even surprised at this point. Flowey knows a lot, and he has his sources. “Spit it out.”

“Rude.” Flowey sticks his tongue out in a puerile manner and winks before continuing. “You were actually on the right track, with looking back on that goopy old man in the Void. You were just looking in the wrong places.”

You freeze, and if you had blood, it’d be cold as ice. “…You know Gaster?”

Flowey snorts. “Pfft, yeah. I’ve tried to drop into the CORE a couple of times, yanno? Never worked out, but I always managed to get interesting information from Gaster every time. Took me a while to understand the weird gibberish though. Win Dong or something.”

“Wingdings,” you correct automatically.

“Whatever,” Flowey dismisses, waving a leaf, like how one might wave a hand. “But anyways, I learned that the Void’s kinda like the place where all timelines converge. With enough power, anyone entering the Void could theoretically destroy, create, or edit any timeline.”

Your mind is whirring at a mile a minute, and Flowey winks at you again. You know it’s a bad idea to listen to him, but you… there’s a chance for you to fix this timeline.

“That’s right, pal. If you wanna fix this timeline… if you wanna give everyone their happy ending…  _ Papyrus _ his happy ending…” Flowey says, voice sickeningly sweet like poisoned honey, and you’re eating it up. “…you’ll have to jump into the Void.”

You already know you’ve lost.

* * *

 

Frisk jumps when the familiar faint sizzle of magic and a  _ pop _ comes to their right. Immediately they realize the implications, and they turn. “Sans!” they exclaim quietly, trying to keep quiet as to not wake everyone else up, worry seeping into their tone. They’re all exhausted, and Sans’s nightmare hadn’t helped matters.

Sans looks disoriented and exhausted, but that isn’t it. It’s there, open on his face, and honestly… it terrifies Frisk.

He looks… resigned.

“Sorry for making you worry.” Sans hesitates briefly, and it’s gone so quickly Frisk is half-convinced they’d imagined it, before handing a pair of notebooks to Frisk.

“What…” They voice dies when they see the faint blue glow of Sans’s soul around the books, along with bloodstains. Frisk knows what had caused that.

“Take good care of them, kid.” Sans smiles at Frisk, and all they see is quiet acceptance and exhaustion.

“Sans, what are you doing?” they ask anxiously, holding the notebooks carefully in their hands. “I… I have a feeling you’re going to do something dumb.”

Sans shrugs. “Maybe.” He laughs mirthlessly. “But… this should fix the timeline.”

“ _ What are you doing? _ ” Frisk repeats, louder this time. Sans visibly flinches when Undyne stirs slightly. Frisk doesn’t care. If they wake up, maybe he won’t do whatever he’s about to do.

“I… It’s nothing to concern yourself over, Frisk.” Sans looks away. “I just… Look, if you want an explanation, you can see in the notebooks. Please, Frisk…” To their horror, he looks like he’s about to cry.

“Don’t make me… please don’t make me stop. I… it took me a while to even commit to this idea. Please, Frisk…”

“Sans, I can’t promise that if you’re… if you’re going to…” Frisk can’t get the words out past the frustration and worry and sadness clogging their throat.

“I’m just going to make a better timeline. I’m going to fix ours.” Sans’s expression looks torn between  _ so, so sad _ and  _ relief _ . “Even if… even if I’m not going to be part of that timeline. Maybe you’ll be better off.”

Like a switch had been flicked, suddenly it clicks—not just what Sans is about to do, but what you did last run and who Gaster is and what’s going on. “Sans,  _ no _ !” Frisk shouts, jolting everybody awake. “No, no,  _ no, no, no, no, no _ …”

“It’s okay, Frisk. You won’t even know I existed after this,” Sans promises, and that’s what scares them the most. “You won’t miss me.”

“ _ NO! _ ” Frisk screams, desperate, and they latch onto his arm as soon as he shortcuts, ending with them being dragged along for the ride, a lot bumpier than what they’re used to.

The sudden heat hitting them causes them to stagger, and Frisk realizes they’re still holding on to the notebooks for dear life.

A loud whirring noise fills the air, and Frisk sees the CORE in all its glory—it’s  _ huge _ , and it has to, to power the entire Underground, but with their tunnel vision, all they can focus on is Sans.

Sans stands, a few feet away from Frisk, looking so, so tired, and Frisk is suddenly acutely aware of just how small he is, how he’s only  _ barely _ taller than Frisk is, how stooped his shoulders are, like the weight of the world weighs on them and maybe it does.

“Sans,  _ no, please _ …” Frisk sobs, trying to take a step forward, but their soul is promptly turned blue, pinned down to the ground. They don’t have the will to fight back against Sans, and they hate it, they hate it,  _ they hate it _ .

“I’m so sorry,” Sans whispers. He sounds sorry and Frisk knows he is because he’s always been like this. “You shouldn’t have followed me… you shouldn’t have to see this…”

“ _ You shouldn’t have to clean up after my mistakes! _ ” Frisk cries back, their voice tearing under the strain and tears clouding their vision as Sans just stands there, right at the mouth of the CORE, of the Void.

A familiar yellow flower pops up next to Sans, carrying seven containers, all lit up with different colors. Frisk’s eyes widen as they recognize the human souls, all right there. They struggle, but vines hold them back.

“ _ NO! _ ” Frisk can’t hear anything over the sounds of their own screaming, can’t see anything but Sans and Flowey, standing there  _ at the edge of the CORE _ and discussing something.

Frisk’s voice cracks, and they can’t scream anymore. They cough pathetically, weeping silently. The containers are being opened. “ _ No _ ,” Frisk rasps, voice rough and desperate and so, so broken.

They’re helpless to watch, restrained by Sans’s dissipating blue magic and Flowey’s vines, as he absorbs the seven human souls.

There isn’t any fanfare. It’s not even noticeable.

But as soon as Sans absorbs the souls, something indescribable changes. Something in Sans. Something in the air.

And at this point, Frisk already knows it’s too late to save Sans.

(Was there any hope in the beginning?)

Sans walks to the edge, achingly slow, and Frisk can only keep whispering  _ no, no, no _ like a mantra, the only thing keeping them sane, as he approaches.

He stops, and Frisk hopes, hopes, hopes, hopes, hopes that he’s changed his mind… but they know, deep down, that there was no hope to begin with. “I’m sorry, Frisk. Love you, kid. And… sorry, Papyrus.”

Sans jumps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the short chapter! i'm updating early next week tho so stay tuned for more suffering (:
> 
> BLESS YOU GUYS FOR 1K HITS LIKE WTF MAN


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The author laughs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (:

The world shatters into pieces and comes back together.

* * *

 

You come to with a terrible headache and a horribly sore throat and sticky eyes.

You push yourself up, and absentmindedly wipe away your tears—tears?

“Why… was I crying?” you ask aloud, as though that’ll help you. Something is wrong. You don’t… you can’t place it.

You frown as you stand up, taking in your surroundings. You’re in Hotland. Why are you in Hotland?

_ You tripped and fell, so you cried. You’re in Hotland to say hello to Vulkin and Tsunderplane. You are leaving the Underground for good, after all, _ supplies a helpful voice that doesn’t really sound like yours or Chara’s. But you take the explanation. It explains the scrapes around your arms and legs. It doesn’t explain your sore throat or your headache, unless you got a concussion.

When you look down at the ground again, you spot a pair of dusty old notebooks. You bend to pick them up, curious. You don’t have much time to inspect them, because you hear a pitiful groan from behind you. Shoving them into your pockets, you turn, only to see—

“A… Asriel?” You can barely believe it. It’s definitely him—with the fluffy white fur and the green and yellow sweater and…

The monster sits up, looking dazed but otherwise unharmed. He looks at you, and his eyes widen, filling with tears. “Huh…?  _ Frisk _ ,” he whispers. “Thank god—I can’t believe…” He sniffles, and you wonder what happened as you hurriedly bend down to his height to console him.

“Asriel, how… I thought…”

At this, Asriel sobs loudly into your shoulder. “Frisk—Frisk, I… I talked him into it, he…”

“ _ Who _ ?” you ask firmly, wondering who he’s talking about. It’s definitely not Chara—Chara’s  _ gone _ , they haven’t even said anything to Frisk during this run.

“S-Sans,” Asriel manages around his tears.  _ …Sans…? _ “He’s  _ gone _ , Frisk… You shouldn’t forgive me… He’s  _ gone _ .”

You pull away gently, meeting his gaze. “I’ll always forgive you, for anything you’d do,” you promise.

Asriel shakes his head furiously. “Sans is  _ gone _ , Frisk! He’s… he can’t come back, even with a RESET! Don’t you understand?”

Concerned, you furrow your brow and ask quietly, “Asriel… Who’s Sans?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And you are welcome. <3
> 
> Okay, I'm gonna need a little bit more time to get this next arc planned out, so the next chapter might come a bit late!
> 
> But I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm laughing at your suffering. (I'm a terrible person)

**Author's Note:**

> remember kiddies this hurts me as much as it hurts you
> 
> also i'm v proud of the title
> 
> go ahead and steal the pun if you want thou i doubt i'm the first to come up w/ it
> 
> also i don't have a beta so please forgive mistakes


End file.
